A Date with Desire

by Heather McGovern

  The thought of it churned the lunch in his stomach. Facing judgmental looks and whispers. He’d done enough of that in the first twenty-five years of his life. Currently, his plan was to avoid all potentially negative interactions, until he could offset his reputation with something positive.

  A good deed on a big scale.

  Getting Roark what he needed couldn’t wait. If he wanted the festival to happen, he’d have to ask for the books.

  He leaned forward, planting both elbows on the table. “I knew you’d have a brilliant idea, Anna from Atlanta, but what was it you said yesterday? ‘Well, this sucks.’ ”

  “Why?”

  Good question—seeing as how there was no obvious reason he should be opposed to asking for public records. Regular people could ask for anything.

  He wasn’t regular people; not in Windamere.

  What excuse could he give her, because there was no way he was telling her the truth.

  He was shy? She already knew better.

  He was scared of authority? Ha! Since he was seven, he hadn’t been able to even fake a fear of authority.

  He was . . . nervous. Now that held promise. Everyone understood nerves. Anxiety when dealing with something important. Not really a lie at all. He was nervous about going into town, facing people and his past, but not for reasons she might presume.

  “I’m worried he’ll say no. Nervous about asking. This is a big deal. I don’t want to screw it up.” His rationale came out in a rush.

  Anna tilted her head, a notch of confusion along her brow. Then it smoothed out, and she smiled. “I get nervous too, sometimes. Not about talking to people, but . . . other things. Talking I can handle.”

  Her? Nervous? He couldn’t imagine what would make her nervous. Drinking the last of his tea, he realized he was paddling upriver with a leaky boat. The only question was, how long would it take him to sink?

  “I could go with you to the tourism board. I’ve had to ask the City of Atlanta for transportation stats before, for an event with the Braves. One time I needed information on arena closures for a movie they were filming. Now that was impossible. Movie companies won’t give you anything. There’s no way Windamere’s tourism board is as tight-lipped as Hollywood.”

  Stunned, Dev froze with his tea glass inches from the tabletop. “Why would you want to go with me to talk to some government lackey when you’re on vacation?”

  Chapter 9

  “I . . .”

  Yes, genius. Why would she want to spend her time away from work, working?

  Because she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Because all she had now was her career, and even though she’d been sucking wind at it lately, normally work was her safe zone.

  Not to mention, helping Dev yesterday—kissing him—was the best part of her vacation so far. Who was she kidding? Dev kissing her had been the best part of any vacation.

  “I’d like to help,” she told him. Versus explaining that the time she spent in his presence was the happiest she’d been in seven months.

  Yesterday, the sadness over losing her father hadn’t dragged her under, she wasn’t freaking out about work, and she wasn’t obsessing over what to do if she’d lost the magic touch that’d made her successful. If time with Dev meant spending an hour or two in a beige government office on Monday, then so be it. Bring on the beige.

  “I think I could be useful in getting your plan for this festival off the ground.”

  Dev finally set his glass down. “I know you could be, but . . .”

  Uh-oh. He might actually say no to her offer. She’d been almost certain of a yes. He’d looked almost panicked about going to talk to these business people alone. Apparently she could sell the crap out of some overpriced boots, but not her ability to be useful.

  “The fact remains, you’re on vacation. I can’t monopolize your time with my project when you’re supposed to be having fun.”

  So his objection was tied to guilt. Taking up her vacation time. Little did he know this was precisely how she wanted to spend her vacation. “Would it be monopolizing though? What are we talking, an hour or two to ask for some records? Maybe an hour or two every other day if you need to brainstorm ideas? Won’t we be finding a way to spend time together anyway?”

  “Yeah, but work wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  When she smiled he leaned in, closer to her. A very good sign.

  “If I say yes, and you help me out with the festival, you have to let me help you too.”

  “Help me what?”

  “Vacation.” With the fingertips of both hands, he tapped the table. “You clearly don’t know how. There’s where you need my help. If we go to the tourism office later in the day on Monday, we can slip away after. Grab some coffee, take in a sight. You know, do something more in line with actual vacation activities. I’m on shift at reception all day tomorrow, but Monday I can come up with an excuse to be gone for a while.”

  Her pulse jumped. That meant spending almost half a day with him, and another date, this time without the lunch-break time constraint. “Sounds like we have a deal.”

  Dev’s gaze locked with hers, a warm smile on his lips and a flash of heat in his eyes that scorched. He reached for the menus again, and passed one over. “Yes, it does. And it starts right now.”

  “Are you still hungry?” She glanced down at the menu that’d been thrust into her hands.

  “On vacation, you have dessert.”

  “I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Yes, you can. Life is short and the best ice cream around is right here. Don’t tell Wright I said that.”

  She was doing it.

  She was going to be on vacation and live in the moment. A moment that included two-dozen flavors of ice cream and about half a dozen floats.

  “Hold the phone.” Dev tugged her menu down. “They have the blueberry.”

  “Blueberry what?”

  Pointing to a sticker at the very bottom, he emphasized each word. “Homemade Blueberry Ice Cream in a Waffle Bowl. They never have it this early in the season.”

  “I can’t eat a whole—” One look at his face and she stopped talking. “A waffle bowl sounds reasonable.”

  Dev drummed his fingers on the table until their waitress returned. “This is going to change your life. Just wait.”

  Of all the ice cream flavors listed, the chocolate with sea-salted caramel jumped out at her. And kept jumping, up and down, with little sea-salted caramel hands waving.

  By the time the waitress reappeared, Anna needed a napkin for her drool. “I think I’m going to try the chocolate with caramel.”

  Devlin sucked in air and looked at her like she’d said she was going to steal a child’s ice cream instead of buying her own. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Choosing chocolate over blueberry will be your biggest regret.”

  “I never regret chocolate.”

  “But it’s blueberry season.” He pointed to the sticker on the menu.

  Anna pointed to the description of the chocolate. “But rich, creamy chocolate with ribbons of sea-salted caramel.”

  “The chocolate is very good.” The waitress shared a look with Anna that screamed, Girl, get the life-changing chocolate and caramel and bury your face in the bowl.

  “Then I’ll have the chocolate with caramel.”

  “Go ahead and ruin your life. But don’t come begging me for a taste after you realize your mistake. I don’t share.” Dev ordered the blueberry.

  “That works, because I don’t share either.”

  Dev paid the tab and told the waitress they’d take the ice cream with them. “We can walk and eat. It’s nice out. And you’re on vacation.”

  When their ice cream arrived, his looked suspiciously like it included bits of cheesecake, and that was not mentioned on the menu.

  They took their ice cream and he led her toward the edge of a small green space with a winding path, in the middle of the town.

  Not as quaint as Wind
amere and its goats, but Newton still had charm.

  As they started on the path, Anna stuck a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. The chocolate with the nip of sea salt took over her mouth. “Oh. My. God.”

  “Right?”

  “Oh my god,” was all she could manage. The cold, smooth texture was heaven and the distinct flavor of real chocolate—she could die.

  Devlin finally dug into his waffle bowl with the extra-long spoon, and he moaned as his eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Yours is good too, I take it?” She laughed.

  They walked and ate, but every few steps Dev let out a moan filled with physical satisfaction, and it danced across Anna’s senses.

  “If you’re going to keep moaning over that ice cream, you have to share.”

  “Nuh-uh. I told you, I don’t share.”

  “Then stop making those noises.”

  “What noises?”

  She did her best impression of his deep moaning.

  “I . . . am not sure I caught that. Could you do it again?”

  She shoved at his arm and kept walking. This lunch together wasn’t simply a date; theirs was the best date she’d ever been on. They were strolling through a tiny park with ice cream. No one in real life had dates like this.

  Eventually they meandered back toward Dev’s 4Runner, and he moaned again, probably when he got one of those bits of cheesecake.

  Anna turned to him. “Now you’re just showing off. Mine happens to be delicious too.”

  “As delicious as mine?”

  “I don’t know, I haven’t had yours yet.”

  He caught her wrist as she brought the spoon to her mouth. His hand wrapped completely around it as he pulled her close, and stole her bite of ice cream.

  “Hey! You said no sharing.” She laughed, trying to hold her bowl out of his reach.

  “I know. Now I’m breaking that rule.” Holding up his spoon, he circled a delicious-looking mound of blueberry ice cream under her nose. “I’ll let you try mine if you let me have more of yours.”

  She lowered her lashes, a slow glance at his offering. “You’re on.”

  As he lifted the ice cream she touched his hand, wrapping her lips around the spoon.

  The cheesecake was rich and sweet, the blueberries slightly tart, and it tasted like absolute heaven.

  Anna closed her eyes and moaned over the bite.

  “Told you.”

  “You did.” She spoke with her mouth full. “What can I say? I’m hardheaded.”

  He shook his head. “You know what you want. Nothing wrong with that.”

  She had no clue what she wanted out of life anymore, but she was sure of one thing. She wanted Devlin to kiss her again.

  “Want some more?” With a spoonful of chocolate held in offering, she waited.

  The corners of his lips curled, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. He knew she wasn’t only talking about the ice cream. Her ability to be bold around Dev surprised her, but he seemed completely comfortable with it. The more flirtatious she became, the bigger his smile.

  He caught her wrist again and leaned down. Lips parted, he stilled, waiting for her to feed him.

  With a quick glance around, she found they were alone on the side street. It shouldn’t matter. They weren’t doing anything wrong, but the gesture was undeniably intimate, especially with Dev and his full lips parted, the tip of his tongue ready.

  She’d been raised with the notion that public displays of affection and intimacy were . . . unseemly.

  Kissing behind a greenhouse, no one could see you. Feeding each other near the center of town meant anyone could see you.

  But she was on vacation. If there was ever a time to do something new, the time was now.

  She slipped the spoon between Dev’s lips and he closed his eyes with an appreciative noise.

  He slid his hand farther down her arm as she put her spoon back in the bowl. “The chocolate is very good, but I think I’ve had enough ice cream.”

  “Me too.” She wanted a different kind of sweetness-with-bite.

  He reached behind her, placing his bowl on top of his SUV, and plucked hers from her hands too. With one step, he closed the space between them, and leaned in, capturing her lips with his.

  Sweet and cold at first, his mouth moved against hers, his hold on her solid and sure, heat licking at her senses.

  The cool, smooth pressure of his lips gave way to warmth, suction, and then the brush of his tongue at the seam of her lips. She opened, and he dipped inside, moaning again as their tongues brushed together.

  He kissed her, giving and taking, never letting up as he reached for her waist, moving them closer to his car, until her back pressed against the door.

  He moved his hands up her body, threading fingers into her hair, tilting her head, deepening the kiss. Raw and wild, he made love to her mouth until a moan—throatier and needier than any caused by dessert—escaped her. Devlin swallowed it, pushing his hips into hers.

  This was beyond a public display. They were making out on a side street. She ought to slow things down, but she didn’t want to. Shamelessly, she shifted her stance, letting him closer, brushing her thigh against his.

  Her behavior might be out of character, but the need stirring inside her didn’t care about behavior.

  “God, you taste good,” he murmured before kissing her again. “So sweet.”

  But their kisses held the promise of things down and dirty and the furthest thing from sweet; and she wanted it all.

  Anna reached for him, brushing her hands up his arms to hold on to the curve of his biceps as he rained kisses down the side of her neck. He sucked at the tender skin and she dug her fingers into the meat of his arms, desire lighting her up inside.

  She pressed her chest into him, wanting the contact, needing the friction, something, and Devlin growled—legitimately growled against her neck before planting a hand on the side of the truck for leverage.

  He panted. “That kind of thing drives me crazy.”

  “The good kind of crazy?”

  “The best.”

  She did it again, arching into him. When he kissed her again, he took her bottom lip between his teeth.

  Someone at the top of the street wolf-whistled at them, and Anna broke away to see who and where, Devlin not slowing down a bit, merely shifting his attention back to her neck.

  “I think someone’s caught us.” She nudged at his side.

  “Screw ’em.” He nuzzled her ear, making her smile, but he lifted his head and glared, and the passerby moved on.

  Devlin’s gaze met hers, his touch gentle as he brushed his fingertips along her neck. “Got a little carried away, but I’m not sorry.”

  Heat danced across her neck. “Me either.” The heat turned into fire as she spoke the words, grasping their truth. She had to touch her neck to see if it felt hot.

  “Don’t worry.” He lifted her hand away. “We weren’t that obscene, and your neck is fine. Bright red, but fine.”

  “Great.” She rolled her eyes and Dev smiled, his eyes so clear and so pale, she fancied she could see straight through them, right down into the center of what he was thinking, what made him tick.

  But she knew better.

  People were never that easy, or simple.

  She moved her legs back together, shifting against the tingling between them.

  “We should go. I think your two-hour lunch break was up half an hour ago.”

  He laid his forehead on the arm that propped him up. “Ah hell.”

  Chapter 10

  Devlin walked up to Anna’s cabin on Monday afternoon, to find her in one of the chairs on the front porch, feet bare and propped on the railing, reading a book.

  “Are you actually reading that one?” he called out.

  The book fell against her chest as she gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “Yes. I am.”

  He took the empty chair next to her, propping his feet up as well. Reading on the porch counted as a vacati
on-type activity at least.

  Now that they’d reached an agreement, her help with getting the festival on track in exchange for his help in showing her how to properly vacation, he didn’t feel so bad. All the added time together was a bonus too.

  The key was to keep it away from his family, at least until he got their full support in reviving the festival.

  “Are you still game for going with me to the tourism office today?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then whenever I have a day off, you have to let me take you kayaking or tubing—something. One of the legitimate recreational activities that Honeywilde has to offer.”

  “That all sounds . . . terrifying, actually. I was thinking more along the lines of a craft class.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Craft class? No, no. See, you definitely need my help.”

  “Fine, but let’s start with the tourism office and ramp up slowly. Is this okay to wear?” Anna rose to her feet, arms out as if presenting herself.

  She had on a pair of dark red pants, fitted and cut off above her ankle, and yet another black shirt. This one a short-sleeved button-up that accentuated her waist, and all of her other assets.

  “Yes, that looks . . .” Like something that ought to be on the floor of his bedroom.

  “I didn’t bring any suits since I’m on vacation, but I thought this looked nice.”

  “Suit?” He grinned. “You don’t need a suit.”

  “I wasn’t sure, with it being a city office.”

  “The city of Windamere. We’re in the mountains of North Carolina. Town with a population of barely five thousand. And when it doubles that, it’s all people trying to escape suits and work. Even the mayor doesn’t wear a tie unless he’s on the news. You look great.”

  And he had to be around her, all day, handling himself like a business professional, while she wore those pants.

  * * *

  The office administrator was a woman, probably in her midfifties, with perfectly set blond hair and wire-frame glasses. Her nameplate read Ms. Hendricks.

  He’d bet anything she’d been a Miss Blueberry Festival, back in the day.

  “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Crawford?” She looked Dev up and down.